


Wash your hands of it

by shaded_blue_fangs



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pining, Unspoken Affections, ezio wants to protect the dreamer, leo wants ezio to trust him with the bad stuff, they liiiike each other, unapologetic googled italian bc im a sucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaded_blue_fangs/pseuds/shaded_blue_fangs
Summary: Leonardo knows Ezio is leading a dangerous life. He knows he is. But what can he do but help his friend? Give him a place to...call home
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Wash your hands of it

There was a knock on the door. Leonardo only looked up when he heard his name called. He turned to see Ezio pushing is way inside. As ever, the man was armored and looked tired, though his hood was down as he entered the study.

“Ezio! So good to see you! What do you have for me?” Because he was always glad to see Ezio, even if it was always for business.

Then Ezio handed over more of those remarkably coded pages and Leonardo excitedly took to the task of decoding them. They were delightful distractions from the frustrating attempts he spent his days on. The flying contraption was nowhere near functional, not to mention his pulley systems and automatons.

Soon enough, the job was done and Leonardo returned them, somewhat reluctantly. Ezio always left so soon after his visits. Trying to delay, Leonardo asked, “What of your travels? Tell me. I am bound to this study and do not see much sunlight, to my shame.” Leonardo said bashfully, chuckling with Ezio.

His friend paused as he held the decoded pages, seeming to debate his answer. He said, “My travels...keep me busy that is for certain. I wish it weren’t so, but è per il bene superiore (it’s for the greater good).”

Leonardo didn’t exactly know the details of his work, but he knew Ezio was living dangerously. After seeing his family killed--che dio li protegga (may God protect them)--and so wrongly too...Ezio changed. Every other day he seemed to hear news of the Assassin or see a wanted poster on his way back from the market. Ezio had changed and yet not entirely. He always showed up on his doorstep with a smile and sly smirk.

Leonardo watched from where he leaned back on his table, arms crossed, as Ezio perused the room, looking over the bookshelves and maps as he talked. “There are more people responsible for my father’s murder than I thought. It runs deeper than I imagined. È difficile sapere di chi fidarsi (It’s difficult to know who to trust).” Ezio seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

It made Leonardo mad, but he held his anger back. “So, you mean to say you don’t trust me? Sai che puoi (You know you can).” He said, flipping a hand and moving around the desk, hoping the space would draw Ezio in.

Ezio paused his purview of one of Leonardo’s notebooks. He mumbled something and put the book down. For the first time, possibly ever, Leonardo saw Ezio look...unsure. And a little shy. He blinked a few times, it was so surprising. Ezio put down the book and walked to the otherside of the desk, standing across from Leonardo. His hands lay flat over the sheaves of parchment, arms bracing. Ezio looked down. Them shifted to run a hand over his face. He looked so weary. He met Leonardo’s eyes and said softly, “Ci si sente al sicuro qui. Non voglio rovinarlo (It feels so safe here. I do not want to spoil that).”

Leonardo shrugged. “Non sto andando da nessuna parte (I am not going anywhere).” He bit off the last piece of the phrase. Too soon to admit such a thing.

But Ezio looked mollified by this. He picked up one of the metal balancing devices Leonardo kept on his desk. They were amusing. The way the spheres, though of different masses, managed to counter each other in an almost eternal pendulum. Ezio seemed amused by it too and Leonardo’s heart soared. “The troubles I face take me all over the city, and beyond. It seems the corruption is…” He sighed and put the tool back down. “I am going into the mountains soon, tracking some conspirators there.” Ezio smiled, a flash of that _grin_ that struck him so. With a flick of his wrist, the hidden blade on his wrist shot out and retracted, like a viperous snake. “Your gifts have been quite useful.”

Leonardo had to cough to be able to respond. “Yes, well, sono uno strumento utile e a tua disposizione. Non avrei mai avuto bisogno di un'arma del genere. (It is a useful tool, and at your disposal. I have no need for a weapon like that.)”

“And I hope you never do.” Leonardo looked up and saw Ezio turning away. He gave a forlorn smile and walked around the desk, escorting his friend out.

“Good bye, Ezio. Viaggi sicuri, and you are welcome any time.”

Ezio nodded his thanks and walked into the streets of Firenze.

Inside his study, later that day in the deep hours of night. The candles burned low in their castings, the wax spilling off the trays and onto his desk. Their pellets would join the many others he’d scraped off over the years. Normally, he’d have more energy. His ideas never let him a moment's rest, and grew so active in the late night. He’d drive himself to exhaustion going over calculations and diagrams. 

It was a delightful life. He enjoyed his work, even if it caused him a great number of problems.

In his hand was one of the few balms. A letter, sent to him only a few scant months prior, yet infinitely more precious than a number of things in his study. Tonight, for the first time in some time, his thoughts quieted enough to enjoy the taste of wine and brood. Normally, brooding was the luxury reserved only for the moments after waking, when a dream left him feeling bereft. Otherwise, he kept himself working. Well, mostly, the work consumed him, in that wonderful way he could get lost in puzzles and machinations. But it was no coincidence that it made a damn good distraction from a certain brown-eyed Assassin.

Leonardo sipped at the fine Italian red in his right hand as his eyes read over the lines on the parchment in his left. It was a short letter, containing only two lines. It was polite, yet endearing, coming from someone of his own age. His eyes didn’t really read it so much as trace the loops and dips of the letters _‘Caro Leonardo’_ and _per favore, incontrami lì, al crepuscolo. ho qualcosa da chiederti (please meet me there, at dusk. I have something to ask you)’_ and _‘Cordiali saluti, Ezio’_. His mind wandered. That day had ended in disaster. He still remembered Ezio’s form disappearing onto the rooftops. But what if it had gone differently? What if it had been...Ah, ma sarebbe falso (Ah, but it would be false).

Leonardo took another sip, longer this time. He put the letter from Ezio down and picked up another off the desk. It described a contract, a commission that would move him and his workshop to Venezia. Away from belissima Firenze, and away from his bellissimo mercante di morte. He’d have to tell Ezio, at least so he knows where to bring him those intriguing pages. The commissioner wanted him out there soon, and with Ezio’s unpredictable visits, it was unlikely he’d have a chance to tell him before leaving.

Just in case, he’d leave a note.

Venice was a beautiful city. He loved Firenze, the Duomo, Santa Maria and the tall white grandeur. But Venezia was close. The canals wound like capillaries through the city, and it contained a well and small piazza around every corner.

And he loved it more, because it had brought Ezio. It was good fortune that had them both in this lovely city. Though from what the heralds say, things are worse than ever for him. He has only visited once since they arrived, and the favor he’d earned with the Medici had no holdings here. 

Until he heard something while buying his food supplies.

“Scusami, che cosa ha detto? (I’m sorry, what did you say?)”

“The Doge is dead! There was an attack at the palazzo last night. They say it was the Assassin. Dio ci salva tutti. Quell'uomo è un demone (God save us all. That man is a demon).” She crossed her heart and those around who could hear did the same.

Leonardo’s heart dropped to somewhere around his feet. He stammered his thanks and apologies and fled back to the study. He slammed the door shut and took a moment of breath leaning against it. The basket of goods felt too heavy on his arm. It slid to the floor as he did. He sat, fear paralyzing him. Was Ezio dead? What had happened? Did...Ezio really do it? If he had, there was good reason...but the Doge was not a bad person. Corrupt officials have a hard time disguising it, especially to those like him who are clever and pay attention. Why? Why Ezio? Leonardo gripped his head. He should have stuck around to ask if the Assassin had survived. He didn’t know what he would do if Ezio had perished. Especially since it had been his invention to see his friend into the palazzo. What if--what if it had gone wrong, and Ezio was crumpled somewhere in the remains of his pezzo di merda machine?

For now, he did what he always had done: research, read, work. It’s all he could do to keep from breaking apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the AC franchise. I envy the people who do.


End file.
